Trendsetters
by Nevervana
Summary: Ever notice how, ever since LotR came out, every good fantasy epic has at least one baddie in a black cloak? The Witch King of Angmar has, and he isn't happy about it...OOC, oneshot, highly lame the plot bunny made me do it!


Disclaimer: if you recognize it, it ain't mine. Period.

The Witch King was getting pissed. _Real _pissed. He could remember a time when the Realm of Cloaked Baddies had belonged solely to him and the other eight, but _nooooooo…_

"Khamul!" He shouted. "_Khamul!!!"_ His easterling second in command had disappeared, and he needed him for something. the fact that he couldn't even remember what it was he wanted him for was irrelevant. it had become a pointless vendetta to find him at all.

feeling a surge of glee, he spotted another cloaked figure ahead, its hand resting on the hilt of a very evil looking sword. "Oy! Khamul!" He grabbed the figure's shoulder and spun it around, only to find himself staring into an incredibly ugly face; pasty and eyeless.

"No," said the creature, "Mike."

"What the hell are you?!" The Witch King yelped.

"I'm a Fade," the creature sniffed. At the Witch King's blank silence, he elaborated. "From the Wheel of Time?" More silence. "By Robert Jordan?"

theWitch King thought for a second.

"Oh, yeah…" he said slowly. "You guys are in charge of those trolloc things in the Realm of Creepy Mutated Minions, aren't you?"

"Oh, aren't we integligent!" Cried the fade sarcastically, as he hopped onto his black horse and rode off.

"Creepy fellow…" muttered the nazgul, noting how the fade's cloak didn't move with the wind. Suddenly he spotted another black cloaked figure and, elated, ran towards it. "Yo! Khamul, dude, been looking everywhe-"

"Khamul?" The creature hissed. The Witch King could now see that this thing was at least twelve feet tall. "Who's Khamul? I am Bob. Or dementor 12498. Take your pick."

"Dementor?" queried the Witch King.

"Yeah, you know. Suck out your soul through your mouth, feed on happiness, guard of Azkaban prison?" The Witch King was about to say that no, he didn't know, when another figure in a black cloak, this one wearing a mask, came along and said silkily;

"Bob, what are you doing out of the Rowling district? C'mon, we followers of the TRUE dark lord," at this the grey eyes just visible through the holes in the mask flicked towards the Witch King, "must separate ourselves from these other _unworthy_ fandoms."

"'kay, Lucius," said Bob, and they went off in a huff. The Witch King shrugged and kept on going, still calling for Khamul and trying to remember what the hell he even wanted him for, when he ran into YET ANOTHER figure in black.

"Lemme guess," he said glumly. "Dark wizard? Evil warlock? Servant of the devil?" It whipped around and the Witch King actually took a step back. There was no secret as to why _this_ guy wore a cloak. He was old; _beyond_ old, to judge by the wrinkles. And his skin, oddly enough, was grey. He also looked distinctly aggravated.

"How dare you question the power of Lord Sidious, master of the sith and emperor of the universe!" The witch king lifted his eyes to the heavens. What next? Sidious continued. "you dare show insolence to me, you filthy cur?! Feel the power of the dark si-"but he was cut off as a certain morgul blade rammed through his skull.

At last, the Witch King of Angmar could stand it no longer. He whirled around and thundered to the heavens "KHAMUL, IF YOU DON'T COME RIGHT HERE THIS INSTANT THEN SO HELP ME I'LL-"

"You'll do what?" asked a voice directly behind him.

"GAHHHHH!" The Witch King whirled around and saw, much to his ultimate displeasure, Khamul. Who was grinning the smuggest grin ever grinned in the history of grinning. "Khamul!" He yelled. "Where the hell have you been?!" the grin widened.

"I've been following you around all day."

In the Witch King's mind, Khamul was dieing a thousand horrible deaths.

"Yup! Everywhere you've been today, I've been roughly two inches behind. Now, was their something you wanted?" twitching, the Witch King managed to choke out;

"your head on a golden platter would be a nice start…" and thus did the day end, with the two nazgul chasing each other about the dark and depressing Realm of Cloaked Baddies in yet another duel to the death.

THE VERY LAME END.


End file.
